Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I knew it was too early to be up before I opened my eyes. For starters, there was no alarm going off, and Nash was actually waking me up.
I groaned as I moved away from his touch. "No."
His lips were suddenly at my ear. "Come on, Gongju, get up and have breakfast with me."
He said the nickname and he sounded incredibly dreamy. Oh, he had me. I think I would always surrender to that name and the sound of his voice. There was no truer bliss.
Peeking one eye open, I spotted Nash leaning over me by my bedside.
On Saturdays and Sundays I usually slept in until the last minute and there wasn't time for breakfast, only a quick kiss goodbye. This was a nice surprise.
"Okay," I agreed as I sat up.
"Let's get you in the shower. I've got your back." By the grin on his face I knew he was aiming for trouble.
And I would let him.
I covered myself with the bed sheet and ignored the smirk this gave Nash. Being playful, I giggled as I took off towards the bathroom, all too aware that he was doing the Michael Myers/Jason Voorhees slow stalking walk behind me.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth in a span of eighty seconds it felt like. I had never wanted to hurry up and shower so badly before in my life.
Nash entered the room already gloriously naked. He stood confident and unashamed, whereas I always got a little body conscious before him. This didn't stop his impatience as he came behind me and undid my shield, sending it pooling around my feet. He leaned down and kissed my shoulder, breathing in my scent it seemed as he took in a breath.
"Much better," he said.
Together we went and stepped into the shower and Nash set the water temperature to accommodate us both. As the water cascaded down in a steady stream I took note of Nash while he stood in front of me. His handsome face was slightly bruised and discolored. His cheek held a trilogy of cuts and his mouth had a blemish that wasn't gory, but definitely more noticeable than it had been the previous evening. His masculine body had blotches of purple and red here and there. His knuckles, which read DRAG LIFE, were cracked and scarred. My baby was broken and battled.
My lips parted in distaste. But before I could speak Nash turned me around, his face said he didn't want me studying his wounds.
His fingers were in my hair and soon he had shampoo and was massaging my scalp. It felt so good having someone else doing it, especially Nash's deft hands.
He rinsed my hair and just when I thought he'd condition it too, he was quick to turn me around once more. In seconds he'd hoisted me up and had my spine slapping against the polished granite wall.
